


feel your sugar in my veins

by lameafpun



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/M, Fairy! Reader, Macro/Micro, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Pollen, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:34:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23333935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lameafpun/pseuds/lameafpun
Summary: The first hint that it isn’t run-of-the-mill hay fever — the sort of thing you thought was reserved for the more run-of-the-mill beings — is when the approach of a humanoid only intensifies the feverish heat that washes over your body like a wave. It runs all the way from the ends of your toes to the tips of your pointed ears, a prickly sensation that sends goosebumps across your flesh in an altogether not entirely unpleasant sensation.
Relationships: Link (Legend of Zelda)/Reader, Link (Legend of Zelda)/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 111





	feel your sugar in my veins

The first hint that it isn’t run-of-the-mill hay fever — the sort of thing you thought was reserved for the more run-of-the-mill beings — is when the approach of a humanoid only intensifies the feverish heat that washes over your body like a wave. It runs all the way from the ends of your toes to the tips of your pointed ears, a prickly sensation that sends goosebumps across your flesh in an altogether not entirely unpleasant sensation.

You shiver. The ripples in your fountain tickle your skin.

The little figure draws closer, cautious but not afraid. No, it’s more the demeanor of a big cat — prowling closer with a deadly grace that lies in wait, ready to strike at any overture of harm or perceived threat. It’s oddly exciting, the thought of such a small thing trying to do you harm, and you lean against the wall of your home flower, gripping the lip of the petals with trembling fingers. The smooth surface is frictionless and you shiver in its absence.

It — he stops in front of your flower. At the sight of the familiar garb and oh-so-iconic sword he has strapped to his back, you smile.

“I see you’ve already seen my sisters?” Your voice is loud, unrepentant. Pride suffuses you as you appraise his improved garments, delicately observing the uniquely familiar magic. Yes, he had seen your sisters and it seems he had come to your part of Hyrule to complete the set.

He nods, captivated, mouth gaping ever so slightly as you prop up your head with your palm, gaze pinning him to the ground. All at once, he’s glad words can’t get stuck in his throat but his shaky hands do him no favor as he signs. There’s something darkly amused in your gaze, something oddly different from the playfulness of your sisters. Make no mistake, there’s a playfulness there. But it’s a wicked sort — the kind you’re warned about when you look around places looking as delicate as he does.

There’s no attempt to mask the interest as he observes you. You do the same to him, raking over the cracked leather of his boots, the smooth, uninterrupted thread of his trousers and the curious buckles of his tunic. His gaze lingers on the colorful, feathery bikini top (a style you share with your sisters), the cleavage it contains, and the various shinies you have wrapped around your figure. Your hylian features, delicate compared to your sisters, is captivating.

He gulps as your eyes finally meet, reddening all the way to the points of his ears as your pink tongue swipes over your bottom lip. It had to have been some sort of magic — why did this all feel so intense as it did?

You smirk as he flushes. His reaction to your bite to your lower lip is more overt and you smirk as he adjusts himself in a way that you’re sure he thinks is more inconspicuous than it actually is.

“So what do you need help with sweetheart?”

Even while looking like he’s short-circuited he manages to present you with a garment that has much too much buckles with grace — especially considering he’d just shrugged it off.

“You’ve got the materials and the rupees?”

Bokoblin guts and amber spill out on the ground next to him, his wince apologetic. Rupees clink-clink-clink against each other as he lifts a satchel.

You deliberately turn your gaze from both, and they disappear with a gesture.

“Understood! Now, close your eyes . . . “

He obliges you, any attempts at adjusting himself thrown to the wayside as you pick him up and sink into the fountain. Water (it doesn’t feel quite like water — not liquid enough but still moveable; more like gelatin made of magic) submerges you both and Link nearly panics. He can’t breathe —

Intent on Link, you notice his sudden movements and tap his chest. A spark of magic later he was breathing easily and eyeing the inside of the fountain with awe. You watched his hands move with a growing smile.

“Yes, bigger on the inside than the outside.” A throwaway line as your fingertips linger on the hem of his trousers, the exposed, scarred skin you caress with care. His eyes are on you, burning. “Oh, baby.”

A scar, red and angry and new, wraps around his torso. It starts at his left shoulder and ends at his right hip, the jagged edges speaking of painful agony and struggling. You trace it with a fingertip as large as his hand, the size difference readily apparent even though you’re half the size of your more powerful sisters.

Something about the way you touch him cuts the strings of tension that had been holding him up and he relaxes even further into your grasp, gasping. He arches as your touch trails down his body to rest at the front of his pants.

It’s heat — liquid heat that makes everything too hazy to see clearly. It’s nothing but feeling. Link surrenders himself to it even while your eyes remain open; his features scrunch prettily as his clothes disappear into the cloudy fountain waters and he’s left bare.

His lower half is just as pretty as his upper half.

You can feel it, too. The warmth in your chest that makes your skin tingle and hum with anticipation. You almost expect to taste something sweet. Want swells within you — you need more of it, to feel it clear enough that you can taste it against your tongue.

He tastes like sweat and musk and grass. Nature, with something softer underneath you associate with baths and tall white pillars. Something more suited to a castle . . .

But then your tongue brushes up against something hot and aching and hard and he moans. Visions of castles go up in smoke; he’s here right now and precious and you need to feel him within you.

A hand trails down your chest, unclasping the feathery bikini top, before reaching up to cup Link in your hands. Your tongue swirls around Link; he’s so small compared to you, so vulnerable that it’s intoxicating. His grip on your pointer fingers to keep him grounded feels like nothing more than a pinch even as you can see the way the veins on his arms stand out, muscles flexing. His hips strain against your thumbs and you smile as he shudders.

His thunderous heartbeat and sweet sounds are like music, his ecstasy yours.

In your fountain, you loosen your hold on him and let the waters carry him back to the surface.

Blond hair surrounds his face like a golden halo and you smile.

It is sweet.

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by borns song dopamine. part of it was just my love for thicc fairy ladies and link and the song helped me finish writing lol.


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